The Dead Marshes
by Paperlanterns86
Summary: A lost Elven maiden of the Avari leaves her homeland on a journey, but soon finds herself lost amidst the Dead Marshes, the graves of those who perished in the Battle of Dagorlad at the end of the Second Age.


The Dead Marshes

AN: **I have not felt any inspiration to write anything in a long time, but a piece of fan art I had seen the other night finally sparked something in me, and now here we are.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Tolkien Estate, although I do own all OC's and other deviations from canon.**

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The sun was setting over the marshes, washing the land in a burning glow. Sidhlairiel imagined that this land looked like that long ago, during the heat and fire of the famous battle that had raged here for years. But now all was still, there were no sounds to be heard, no clashing of swords, the whistle of arrows flying through the air, nor the screams of the dying. Now there remained only the stillness of the dead.

 _The dead_.

Sidhlairiel had heard many tales of the Battle of the Dagorlad that had raged here many centuries before her birth, and what had become of the fallen who were laid to rest on these grounds in the years after. It was in part these tales that had driven her to this place, in other part was the fell creatures who she had felt lurking in the shadows, their fell presence urging her forward towards this land of the dead.

She had not been born or raised in any great elven kingdom, but instead her family lived in a forest, forgotten by most, inhabited only by a few of the elven kindred who had forsaken the Great Journey millennia ago. Her people were much isolated because of that, and seldom did news from far off lands reach them, but their isolation could not escape the evils of Sauron in this age, and the one that preceded it.

In her youth her homeland had been a much happier place than the one that existed presently. She had been born ere the beginning of this the Third Age, and she had known naught of the battles that ravaged the land, including the one that had taken place here on the Dagorlad. But rumors had reached her home of Sauron growing again in power, and soon evil creatures were seen lurking around the forest, and elves and other animals disappearing in the night, never to be seen again. This is what had happened to her parents ere she had awoken one morning to find herself alone.

Now all Sidhlairiel had to herself were memories, and stories of the past. In her loneliness, she decided to leave her forest homeland and seek out her parents, and the world beyond. Her people had vague knowledge of the lands to the west, for they dwelt in the far east of Middle Earth, and Sidhlairiel knew that the people of her home had all been taken to the west, so that was the direction that she took.

At first she did not come upon many fell creatures in her journey, and when she did she hid from them in dark and quiet places. But the further west that she traveled, the darker the land became, as well as the creatures she had seen. They were grotesque beings, and according to the tales she had been told as a child, they were descended from Elves who had been captured and tortured by Morgoth millennia past, and were now the evil creatures doing the bidding of Sauron today. That thought always made Sidhlairiel sad, knowing that creatures as fair as she and her kin had been made to suffer so much, that they were now forever cursed to be of such an evil nature, until the world changes.

Soon she came upon a dark mountain range, what lay on the other side of the mountains she could see not, but when she looked upon them she felt a great sense of foreboding, and she could feel that such an evil lay beyond those peaks. A black smoke could be seen during the day, drowning out the light of the sun, and at night snuffed out the light of the stars, which were most beloved to the elves, and Sidhlairiel shuddered to look upon the mountains.

Keeping the mountains to her left flank, and not daring to look upon them if she might, Sidhlairiel continued to travel upon the northern side of the peaks, keeping to the shadows where she could, avoiding the evil eyes that lurked the area. All she had to keep herself company was the stories that she knew of old, including the one of the Dagorlad, and the marshes she was fast approaching. Many had perished in that battle, elven kindred and mortal man alike. Those who had survived had buried their dead in the marsh lands, and according to rumors that had reached her land, over the centuries, the swamplands had grown and swallowed the graves of the fallen warriors, turning them all into watery graves. Rumors had also reached her home that now the souls of the ones who were buried there were still close by, lighting the night like burning candles, some fell power not letting them find rest.

Sidhlairiel one evening found herself coming upon this very place, and the moment that she reached it, she knew exactly what was causing those souls such unrest. With dread, she turned and looked to the mountains to the south of her, and the evil that was coming off of them was almost palpable. That was the force that had turned these burial grounds into such an uneasy place. Uneasy did not describe well enough the feeling that Sidhlairiel felt, and with a sudden urgency, she felt the need to get away from these marshes, away from those fell mountains to the south.

With her keen Elven eyesight, far off in the distance Sidhlairiel could make out a field of rocks, and she did not sense such a feeling of evil or foreboding in that direction, and such she immediately set out in that direction. But as she walked she noticed that there really were burning candle like apparitions floating over the marshes.

Something moved in one the pools of water to her right, catching her eye. In her mind, she knew that she should continue traveling, but against her better judgment she looked down into the water. To her surprise, Sidhlairiel saw what appeared to be the body of an Elven warrior, a decaying corpse, but the armor, though rusted, the skin pitted with rot, and the long tresses of hair moldy, did not possible looked to be three millennia old. But what caught her attention most was the eyes of this warrior, they were open, and seemed to be looking past her, but also at her at the same time, going right through her, frozen in time forever. But just as soon as she had seen it, the apparition in the water vanished, gone in the blink of an eye.

By that time the sun had set fully, the only light to Sidhlairiels eyes now was the soft glow of the moon, and the orange glow of the fiery apparitions burning above the water. As she continued moving along through the swampy ground, the Elven maiden resisted looking again into the water. The eyes of the fallen warrior that she had seen beforehand now haunted her, and it was all she could vision in her mind. So engrossed was she about the body she had seen, Sidhlairiel was now paying less attention to where her footfalls were taking her.

Suddenly another of the fiery candles had appeared, this time directly to her left. Its sudden appearance had roused Sidhlairiel from her stupor, and just in time, she halted her footfalls. Had she gone but a few feet more, she would now be at the bottom of one of the stagnant pools of water, joining the fallen warriors in their restlessness. And unexpectedly, again before her eyes appeared another Elven specter, his eyes piercing into Sidhlairiel just as the first had.

And then they were not alone, for another specter also appeared in the water, this one more vibrant than the others. It was of an Elven warrior of great stature, his armor golden and blue, his flowing hair dark, melting like ink into the dark water, and atop his head sat a faded silver crown wrought of delicate metals. His eyes however were the most striking thing about him, so piercing and bright that Sidhlairiel found she could not look away, she was trapped in the gaze of this warrior long past. Something about him seemed different from the other ghosts she had seen earlier, less foreboding, much more welcoming, and that was not something one could expect to feel in this dark place.

So entranced was she in his gaze, that Sidhlairiel did not feel herself begin to move forward, nor the cold sting of the water as it surrounded her feet as they entered the stagnant pool. This Elven warrior, he had such a sense of loneliness about him, one that Sidhlairiel had felt all of the time ere the disappearance of her parents from their woodland home, and upon her journey to seek them out. But suddenly all thoughts of finding her kin were gone, all that existed in her mind was this fallen warrior, and of the restless and loneliness that he must feel, for thousands of years now.

To Sidhlairiel's eyes, it seemed as though the closer she became to the warrior, and the more the frigid water enveloped her body, that his arms were opening to her, welcoming and inviting her to spend unnumbered years of disquiet with him. And soon, before her mind had realized it, Sidhlairiel realized that she was now entrapped in the icy water, unable to leave, but her mind did not seem to care, for she had him, her fallen warrior. His eyes was all that she noticed, and they filled her world, drowning out all else around her.

Everything else began to slip away, deep in her mind Sidhlairiel knew that now she would never leave this pool, never to see the rest of the world, never be able to continue her quest to find her missing kin, that she was doomed to remain here until the world was changed. She discovered that her senses were expanded, and she felt more than her spirit and that of her Elven warrior, but also those of the thousands of others who were interred in this swamp, forever seeking a peace and freedom they would not find in this age, ere the next.

Sidhlairiel felt weightless, her corporeal form now gone, all that remained was the spirits of her knew kin, and especially that of the great warrior whose eyes she could still not escape. They were now bound for eternity, in this cold marsh, but also not quite alone, for they had each other and the other spirits around them.

Time now was different; Sidhlairiel did not feel it pass as she once had in her life in her corporeal form, and everything felt like one long stream, flowing past. The only constant now in her existence was the presence of the spirit that was ever by her side, their eyes never leaving hers. The only interruptions that were now felt to her spirit was that of the occasional traveler, like she had once been, most becoming as she now was, joining the countless other souls trapped beneath the waters. Although, a few did manage to escape the grasp of those here who could never leave, but those were very few in number.

And so, Sidhlairiel and the other lost spirits in that marshland now waited, for a countless number of years, centuries, millennia for their release, whenever that may come to pass. But until the world was changed, they all lingered, floating under the waters, lighting fiery apparitions to attract others to join them, to lessen their loneliness, forever bound together.

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 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this; I'm kind of rusty on canon, so I hope everything here makes sense, I just busted this out at 1 am, and I'm posting it as it as well. The name Sidhlairiel means Field of Peace, which I thought was kind of fitting for the direction I took for this little story.**

 **A note on canon, the Avari were a part of the Elven kindred who refused to travel to Valinor when the Elves awoke during the Years of the Trees, and they lingered in the east of the world, and not many people saw or heard anything about them, so that is why Sidhlairiel is so isolated from the rest of the world.**


End file.
